You Taste Like Poison
by TheDiiva
Summary: He hated dealing with her on his good days, but on his bad, Penelope Spectra was just the absolute worst cherry on a sundae of crap.


Theme: Girl Power (kinda)

 **You Taste Like Poison**

 **Chapter 1: Sticks and Stones**

-o-oOo-o-

He snarled, the crackling blast tearing through the laytex of his arm. Searing stinging fallowed the gash, and he hissed. His ruby eyes blazed, the ectoenergy in his fingers building. The thorny shade zigzagging around him snickered, her undamaged hide mocking him with the fact he'd yet to actually hit her.

"What's the _matter_ , Plasmius, getting too old for this?" She sang, turning and charging at him only to shoot of the side when he attacked.

"I will remind you, woman, that you are older than me by several _centuries_!" He snapped, his fangs bared.

Vlad's patience with her was thin. He didn't have time for her mind games or her terrible excuse for a fight. He hated dealing with her on his good days, but on his _bad_ , Penelope Spectra was just the absolute worst cherry on a sundae of crap. She always seemed to know when he was having a bad day. She'd never missed one. _Ever_.

She dashed around, never staying still or in a straight line for any reasonable amount of time. If she had, she'd already be running off to lick the hole in her body he'd have made. He shot to the side, hoping to catch her off guard but she just turned tail and began carving new patterns in the sky. He wanted to punch her— _in the face._

She chuckled, her red eyes glowing with unbridled glee, "Ahhh, but I don't actually look it. You, on the other hand? Well, lets just say that people may be betting on when you might be keeling over."

He bristled, "I am forty three!"

"Honey you don't look a day under seventy!"

"At least I'm not a horrendous old crone under all that stolen youth!"

"How dare you!"

The only thing he liked about the fights was beating her at her own games. It made it moderately more worthwhile. She charged him, eyes narrows and sharp claws outstretched. He tensed, then dodged. She swung to the left,trying to dig her fingers into his eyes. She didn't get the chance as a swift kick to her ribs sent her flying into a brick wall. She screeched, slumping to the ground several hundred feet below. He dove after her, landing on the neck of a lamppost as he watched her carefully.

Her spectral body twitched and her human guise washed over her. It was her protective measure, to block her real body from further damage. Vlad never understood the mechanic. His eye twitched, the irritability at seeing her hair still style into a knock-off version of his returning full force. She shifted, pushing herself up on her hands, turning to glare at him. He flashed a smile down at her.

"What's the matter, _piyavka_ , loosing your touch?" He mocked, "That's no surprise to me, since you are just an ugly old lady."

Her olive eyes flashed red. He didn't have time to blink before Spectra launched herself at him, knocking him down from his perch. His spine hit the roof of the car, the hard metal denting into the shape of his body. He grunted, kicking her off. She rolled across the grass of the park they had drifted closer to during their battle, dirt and leaves clinging to her cardinal dress suit. He pried himself from the vehicle, dashing after her and sending his fist towards her chest. His knuckles met the ground, and he vaulted, landing back on his feet as he scanned for her. Flashes of red and he turned gathering the energy blast in his palm.

Razor sharp nails slashed into his cheek, tearing it open.

"Gah!" He stumbled away from the affront, loosing his focus on his gathered attack.

"Could an old lady do that?!" Her petite weight pressed down onto his shoulders, her snarling smirk overflowing with delight.

Realization hit him, he knew this attack. She arched over him, intending to send him slamming into the ground after she flipped over him and landed. He twisted, grabbing her wrists and ripping her grip from him. She shrieked with indignity, but silenced when he tossed her onto the ground again. Their eyes met, glares matching point for point. Vlad, however, panted, pink ectoplasm dribbling from his cheek. the core drumming inside his chest was seething hot. It thirsted for energy, his reserves dwindling by the minute. Slowly, Spectra rose back to her feet.

"I tire of this, woman, I've got more important things to be doing!" He snapped, raising his gloved hand to wipe his cheek. Spectra's eyes flashed, her smirk growing.

"Oh? Like day dreaming of your precious Madeline? It's not like you could be doing any more than that, since, oh _right_ , she forgot you **existed** for twenty years!" She sang,

Pink encased his hand, his eye twitching, "I will end you!"

She burst out laughing, covering her mouth, unable to withhold it any longer, "Hahaha, oh it's so easy to stroke your sore spots! I bet you wish Maddie was stroking _something_ else!"

"Don't speak of her like that!" Vlad roared, the air around him hazy with steam.

"So it's true?!"

"SILENCE!"

Spectra ignored him, "You dream of her, don't you? You must, your unconscious is the only realistic place that you could actually have her. But then that's not true is it? You don't have her even in your most perfect of dreams! Even in a world when _you_ control things, you can't get what you want! Not Maddie, not little Danny, not any inkling of happiness! It's hillar— **AHHH**!"

His hand tightened like a vice around her neck as he lifted her off her petite feet. She kicked, her nails digging into the laytex of his glove. He snarled, his muscles twitching as he struggled to remain in control and not discover if ghost could, in fact, be killed.

"I said _enough_."

Her eyes flashed, "And _she_ said no; you expect others to listen to when you refuse to listen to them," She snapped, hooking her fingers between his grip and her neck. The edges of her clothes flickering black. He bared his fangs, but she raised her chin, looking down at him, "You're a _wreck_ , Masters, pure and simple. I've seen broken, I've _made_ broken, but nothing I've ever known has come close to what _you_ are. And the best part is that that's all _**you're**_ doing, Vladdie. You can't blame anyone else. But we both know you're trying so hard to do just that. That's where your anger comes from. Not from a twenty year old grudge, but your own inability to deal with your inadequacies-"

" **BE** **QUIET**!"

Pink slammed into her ribs, sending her reeling backwards through a park bench into the lake behind it. The water wasn't very deep, bug she dug a trench into the gravel and mud as she skidded to a stop. The world spun for her, cold water forcing its way down her throat. She ignored the sensation, not truly needing to breathe, pushing herself up and out of the surface. The side of her dress suit was brunt straight through, the edges of her faux flesh crusted with black charred ectoplasm. The shadowy blackness within writhed from the pain, twitching and pulsating. She grimaced as she stood, the water pooling around her waist. As much as it pained her to show such weakness, her hand clamped over the wound. The sting of the wetness from her hand forced her to flinch no matter how she tried to suppress it. Vlad landed in front of her, his hand still encased in energy. He stared down at her from the embankment.

"Ugh! Look what you've done to my clothes! No wonder people don't like you! Thankfully, no one will ever loose enough of their sense to actually change that!" She snarled.

She combed her hand through her drenched hair, coming back with several dozen more dead leaves than she would have liked. Black ectoplasm dripped down her hip to her leg, mud seeping into the darkened water sodden fabric on her back. She walked out of the lake water, her heels slipping on the stones beneath the murky water. Still, Vlad did nothing, stuck gaping at her. She shot him a viscous glare, her mascara dripping down her cheek.

"What are you staring at?! Taking pride in your 'masterpiece'?!" Vlad startled at her harsh tone, his hand empty of energy. Yet still his eyes remained locked on her, and it was pissing the shade off. She clenched her hand into a fist, stepping closer to the older halfa, intent on breaking his jaw as payment for her own wound. He didn't move, just blinked as she approached.

"You..." He muttered, the rest of whatever he was going to say lost to the dawn air.

Her hair hung in a tangled, soggy mess down the sides of her face, the orange highlights in her way-too-red hair scattered in the mess. He cheeks for hallow, emerald eyes glaring, yet he couldn't bring himself to care about her anger.

His fingers were twisted into her dress collar, his lips slamming onto hers. He hadn't even realized he'd taken the two steps needed to enclose the distance between them, his nails digging into the think fabric as he pulled her close. Cologne and the sickly sweet stench of ectoplasm assaulted her nose. Every muscle in her body went ridged, her hands curling into curved claws as the sheer heat of his waning core washed over her chilled body. Even strained for energy, his touch nearly burnt, a fire that she'd never encountered the likes of before so close to every nerve of her face. His chapped lips were uncomfortable, the dominating pressure they placed on her own increasing her discomfort tenfold. He was a horribly bad kisser, obvious in the fact that he didn't seem to even know what to do. It was an almost laughable attempt had she been witnessing the poor display, though being on the _receiving_ end sucked all the humor from the situation and just left her with a burning desire to rip his face off. She was about to kick him in the groin when his eyes snapped open and he practically threw her away from him as if _she_ burnt _him_.

"Oh god, _what am I_ _ **doing**_ _?!_ "

She took the first moments of freedom to wipe her mouth on her sleeve, because even gross park water was better than the lingering taste of fruity red wine. _The expensive good kind,_ a cheery little voice in the back of her head sang. Her stomach twisted.

"Ich, I could ask the same question! That was horrible!" She stuck her tongue out childishly, face contorted. Vlad, on the other hand, was trying, and failing, to remove her bright fuchsia lipstick from his lips. He only managed to smudge it, his face souring in a grimace. Spectra glared back at him, her eyes alight as she realized just _what_ , exactly, had happened. If there was anything she was good at, it was turning any situation to her delight. Might as well have a bit of fun with this.

Her lips curled up into a devilish smirk, "Although, we both _know_ what that was. That was your _**first**_ _**kiss**_ , the one you were saving for pretty little Madeline, wasn't it?"

He turned to her, confusion etched onto his face, which gave way to horrified realization after a few blank moments.

"N-no—! I-i mean...!" He stuttered, and she barked in laughter, doubling over as her side hurt.

"Oh you're about as inept at _lying_ as you are at _romance_! It's so obvious! Poor Vladdie never kissed anyone until he was forty three!" She had to wipe away an actual tear from her eye, she was laughing so hard. The blazing hatred returned to his eyes, but it was marred by the creeping pink on his cheekbones.

"I was saving it!" He insisted. She just burst out laughing again.

"Well not anymore, you just _wasted_ it!"

"You little wench—!"

"Hey, don't blame me! That was all you! You kissed me! Rather desperately, at that!" She threw her head back, cackling.

He snarled, and launched at her. She dove to the side, her side protesting, but he missed her by miles, his fist slamming into a tree. He twisted, sending a kick towards her face which she ducked under easily. He swung around, trying to hit her with a punch, but she dashed away from his range. He seethed at himself, he was fighting sloppy. He didn't have the energy to waste on being sloppy. He tossed his cape behind him, searching the park for the damnable specter. She stood a few meters away, a wide, cruel smile pasted onto her stained lips. The color was smudged off her lips, and he forced himself to ignore that little detail as well as the burn poking at his cheeks. The smile that Vlad has come to absolutely hate cracked her face, and he seethed more. He supposed his embarrassment was futile, given that they were both already quite acutely aware of it. But it was more the fact of keeping any little tidbit she could possibly twist with her grimy little fingers away from her.

Spectra tilted her head, "Be honest with me, Vladdy, you _**enjoyed**_ that kiss didn't you? What was it for you? The frustration of being a petty lonely guy no one likes? The agony of not being able to get the woman you actually want and knowing it? Desperation?"

Vlad snarled, "None of your concern."

She raised a brow, "Oh I think it is my concern, given it was my mouth you were sucking."

His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist. He wanted to shoot at her, to catch her off guard, but he didn't think he had the energy left. He couldn't exactly argue with her either, as her knack for finding the truth rang through yet again with this, but he didn't want to downright admit it. His patience was long worn thin, and he really just wanted some damn sleep. So he just pined her with a glare, hoping that she'd get the clue and actually go away.

"I've had enough of you. Go away, lick your wounds in whatever wretched lair you crawled out of." he bite out. His hopes were in vain.

She snorted, "I don't believe you. Come on, tell me. You enjoyed it, and you want more. Something in that deluded little head of yours flipped a switch, and-"

"You looked like Maddie, okay?! Now bugger off, parasite!"

The words hung in the air like an awkward neon sign. Spectra could hardly believe that she'd heard just as much as Vlad regretted saying them. Blinking, she just raised a hand to her hair, pulling a clump of it in front of her face and stare at it. True enough, it hung in a straight-albeit ragged- arch cut slightly past her jawline. It was almost the same cut she'd seen Fenton's mother support she she'd seen the motherly woman. The sheer ridiculousness of Vlad's reasoning hit her full for and she cackled, snorting loudly.

"Oh my god, this just got _waaaaaaay_ more _**pathetic**_! You've reached a new low, I didn't even think that was possible! I'll name if after you, so maybe you can feel proud of your twisted accomplish—"

Vlad didn't know when to give up, and running on fumes was one of those times to tap out. No sooner did his fist miss her face and her fingers lock around his wrist, twisting and tossing him into a tree, did the dark rings snap outward of his waist. With their parting residual heat, they took all of his chances to actually send her bleeding and whimpering back to the Ghost Zone. Exhaustion washed over his human form, his body protesting nearly every move as the soreness from his ghost form seeped into it as well. The specter kneeled over him, and he could just feel her smirk on him. He tried to push himself up, sheer determination overruling common sense, but she placed a hand on his collarbones and pushed him back. He grunted, his back hitting the hard bark and sending jolts of pain through his muscles. He sneered up at her, and she flashed her perfect white teeth at him.

"See, you are too old for this anymore. How embarrassing!" She mocked. He tried again to shove her off and stand, but her hand remained firmly on his breastbone, her thumb digging into the spot at the base of his neck, "I _am_ capable of some mercy, and right now, your laughable ass needs some. See you later, Plasmius. I look forward to it. But before I go..."

Her fingers locked around his jaw, and she learned down. Their lips locked again, roles reversed as Vlad stiffened. Her lips moved against his, and like before, he did nothing. His heart sped in his chest, his parched core thrumming along in tune, a very weird sensation on top of the kiss. He wanted to be disgusted, with the gross taste of stale water mixed with spit, with the touches that shouldn't be happening, with the way he felt himself responding. But what horrified him the most was the fact that he _wasn't_ disgusted at all, quite the opposite. He was _enjoying_ this, _**again**_ , and it was that realization that doused all of the electric sparks that seemed to race all over his body with ice water. He knew he'd liked the first kiss, as he thought he'd been kissing Maddie, but this wasn't _Maddie_ at all. This wasn't even a _human_ , nor someone he even _**liked**_. He was frozen, too shocked and too overwhelmed to do anything, and he tried to tell himself it was because he didn't want to do anything in return.

Spectra pulled away from him, and he stared dumbly up at her. She closed his jaw, though he didn't realize it'd been hanging open.

"You absolutely _**suck**_ at kissing," She said, smileing, as she patted his cheek.

She faded from view, her ectosignature weakened, but for the life of him, Vlad couldn't make himself get up. It was only after a long time and the realization that he looked like shit in the middle of a public park, that he forced himself to his feet. He just felt cold and numb, dazed and confused. Several early morning joggers looked his way as he walked out of the park, eying the tears on his suit and the grim clinging to the material. He forced himself to ignore the possibility that they might actually be looking at his face, which was still painted with lipstick.

He pretended it was the rubbing as he attempted to clean the makeup off that made his lips raw and sore. He also pretended he couldn't still taste the sweetness of ectoplasm on them either.

-o-oOo-o-

I'm fukcing laughing omfg this is so bad I can't even...what is this. What. Is this. This is a monstrosity. I couldn't be bothered to research how to write kissing better because the fact that I was writing Vlad and Spectra kissing was way to ridiculous. The idea sounded good in my head and when talking with Pokeshadow, but writing it out and actually trying to imagine it happening...i don't know weather to be horrified or amused that my imagination conjured up such things so easily. This prolly would have been smoother if I actually kept with my imagination instead of stopping every few seconds to go "omfg what am I doing this feels so wrong but I kinda like it".

Uhhhh, have some Misery Motivated? I guess? This is one of my guilty pleasures. It started as a crackship that quickly evolved into _**not**_ -a-crackship. This is defiantly going to be something that I come back and completely redo in the future, since I plan on continuing it into a multichaptered fic, but right now, I don't care. Also, Vlad is totes a terrible kisser, you _cannot_ tell me otherwise.


End file.
